Baby Sister Blues
by MissDimple
Summary: May we get married someday, Brother?" I never replied; but in my nearly forty years of life I had never been happier. Luigi/Amber onesided


_Disclaimer- I own nothing involving this fandom or any of the characters involved._

_Fandom- Repo: The Genetic Opera!_

_Title- Baby Sister Blues_

_Summary- "May we get married someday, Brother?" I never replied; but in my nearly forty years of life I had never been happier._

_Pairing- Partial one-sided Luigi/ Amber_

_Warnings- Contains bad words and references to sex. _

* * *

Looking at her disgusts me, it ignites a fire in me that is hotter than any Gentern that I have ever laid my eyes on.

It fills me with rage to see what she is, what she had become!

What ever happened to my Carmella? My little Carmella, my baby sister. The sweet child with the angel face who practically worshipped the ground that I walked on.

We used to be close, she and I. I can still remember the day that she was born; I was barely ten at the time. I remember thinking it would be just as terrible as the cursed day that Pavi infected my life, the day that I realized that I would no longer be the only one. But, I was wrong.

She was the most beautiful thing that I'd ever laid my eyes on. Her pale skin, bright eyes, dazzling smile. Even then I knew that she would be real beauty when she grew up. Then the most amazing thing happened, all of my childish rage dissipated and an overwhelming feeling of love filled my gut. No one loved her as much as I did, my father was proud but with a hint of indifference in his eyes, my mother... well she's not too important; and Pavi simply stared at her face approvingly. I held tightly onto my baby sister and I swore to her and myself that I'd never let go.

After that day we were inseparable, even as a baby Amber always wanted me around. She would cry and cry until she saw my face. Sometimes when she could not get to sleep, I would read her twisted stories about death and mutilation, seeing as those were the only things that could keep my attention. And even when she was old enough to understand what I was reading to her, she would clap her hands and beg me for another. I would always ask her why she was so interested in such grotesque books and her answer would always be the same.

"I'm not. I just like to hear you voice."

My temper was never the best, I would often go off on rants to myself about some thing, anything to gain attention. As a child, I would break my toys (... and Pavi's), sometimes I would even engage in violent acts with Genterns, Nannies, hell even his mother (everyone thinks I drove her into an early grave, I beg differ). But, regardless of all of that I never snapped at her. Even in my worst fits of rage, I never once raised my voice to her. In fact, she was the one thing that could calm me down. When I was busy flipping tables over and smashing windows open she would always be around, watching me like a hawk and when I did something idiotic like hurt my hand or trip over my feet she would giggle and all of my rage would go away.

But, above all of our childhood memories one stand above all. She was only five years old at the time and I was reading her one of those rare books that actually ended without forty to fifties bodies piled up on top of each other. It had a happy ending, the two lovebirds went off and got married and lived in a castle of some sort for the rest of their lives and yada yada yada. I scoffed at the bull that was shooting off of the page but my sister's eyes were sparkling. She begged me to read it over and over again until I had the story memorized. And when I laid her down to bed, she asked me a question. That question that has haunted my dreams for year.

"May we get married someday, Brother?"

I never replied; but in my nearly forty years of life I had never been happier.

But, of course, every good love story has it's down point. Ours was the day that our father told Amber that she was scheduled for her first surgery. She was only thirteen at the time and scared out of her mind; but father said that her nose was too bulgy, I didn't understand of course because I thought she had the most beautiful face that I've ever laid my eyes on. Apparently, Father didn't see it that way and despite Carmella's constant arguments, he didn't cancel the surgery. She was so upset that she wouldn't speak to me or even look at me; she locked herself up in her room.

I was so pissed off that I went on a rampage, I broke more things that day then I ever had in my whole life. Then I got into a fight with one of the Genterns; things got physical and I grabbed one of her scalpels and stabbed her in the neck with it. She died shortly afterward and became the first victim in a long line of victims to die at my hands. Though, luckily for me, I didn't get in much trouble. My father does wonders in hiding the mistakes that his perfect little children make and I was no exception, before I knew it the death was being blamed on a disgruntled Repoman and I was off the hook. But Carmella never looked at me the same again.

After the surgery everything changed about her. She constantly asked, no begged, father to allow her to get surgery after surgery. She always found something that was wrong about herself whether it was her cheeks, or her lips, her eye lids; she was too fat, her chests were too small (she soon decided that they were too big), or her hair was too light.

After a short year she was no longer the sister that I had loved and worshipped. She became the scalpel slut that we all have grown to loathe today. Carmella Largo was gone and Amber sweet was here.

When I realized this, my rage got out of control. I began to rely on my knives to the point where I went nowhere without them. I plunged into a life of sex and murder. It was settling, no longer having to bare the burdens of someone else's problems; all I had to worry about was myself. But, that doesn't necessarily mean that I didn't worry. I was always concerned for Amber, no matter how I felt about her at that moment; for instance, when she didn't come home on time I would always run up to dad and tell on her.

Amber would usually get in trouble and get so angry with me that she would stomp on my feet and call me a man-child. That one never really hurts, I hear it a lot ; I am an immature man-child that has an attitude problem. I've played with the thought that I only act this way because I think Amber will come back to me if I act the same way that I did when we acted like real brother and sister.

I couldn't begin to count how many women I have fucked making believe that it was Amber and how many I have killed because they weren't. Because they couldn't provide me with what my sister could, they were killed in the most brutal ways possible. It's kind of funny actually, I spend my time killing all of these women because they can't give me what Amber can, yet at the same I cannot bring myself to lay a finger on Amber because she will never give me what I want. Never. Regardless, though, I could never hurt her, she is too important to me.

She can keep destroying herself with the Zydrate and surgeries until there is nothing left of her and I will still be here.

But that won't happen for a while, she'll be fine for now and she'll chop herself up in surgery while I murder sluts in the alleyways and go on rampages about ascots and coffee. But soon, Dad will die and I will inherit Geneco; I will be able to take care of and support my sister all on my own and she will throw herself back into my arms and it will be like it used to be. I know it.

But until then... here I am bent over with my hand gripping my crotch, Pavi off to my side somewhere, quietly giggling along with two or three Genterns and Amber retreating from the scene that she had just caused.

"My Brother and Sister should Fuck."

If only.

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End file.
